Monday, February 05, 2007

The Towel Boy Confounds Me

Well, okay, maybe he's more like the front desk boy. (And I do mean boy - he's probably 12.) But all I need him for is towels.

I come in every day. And every day I need two towels. But he seems unabashedly unaware of my showering needs.

I stand there, looking at him, watching him fold aforementioned towels, my hand out expectantly. And he looks at me and smiles. (It probably doesn't help that he reminds me of an ex, beloved Bass Boy.) And continues folding. And so I try to come up with something witty to say, but always - ALWAYS - wind up saying something idiotic.

About Me

Tree Hugging Dirt Worshipper.
The real scoop is this: I'm a thirtysomething occasional writer who would like to figure out what it all means in this world, as long as it has something to do with having a sense of humor.
I adore nature, natural things, yoga, kitties, naps, bubble baths, and yummy vegetarian food.